Face the music.

Little Moments.

I find it hard to start writing blog posts right now because there really is so much to say about so many things. Days of silence on here are merely reflective of me feeling like not one thing is just the right thing to say at the moment. And, well hey, I have two little kids. Life is crazy.

Luckily, I have something I would love to share now that I have some time.

Sometimes, it is in the simplest moments with my little ones that I feel such gratitude. It might be something other parents would consider par for the course of a day, but little moments can mean so much to me. I am learning lately not that I am changing my expectations– I am a huge believer in having high expectations (if you don’t live like you expect more, the more doesn’t come)– but I am changing my attitude. I am grateful in a way that I have not been before now. Honestly, it just makes life special.

…

My son had a good day on Friday. One of those days that make me feel like autism is something stupid and small that we can beat in no time. These days don’t come so often, and when they do, life seems sort of magical. It’s cheesy, but it’s true.

On this particular good day, I decided it was just the right day to put the Christmas tree on during the day. My son was delighted. We put on some Christmas music, and soon the Nutcracker Suite was lightly floating through the air. I looked at my kids, my daughter chewing insistently on her toy monkey (she’s on her way to four front teeth for Christmas) and my son, looking up at me bright-eyed. His eyes are such a beautiful blue; striving to create moments for eye contact are just so worth it.

Anyway, I just started moving… slowly… saying softly to my kids, “Isn’t this beautiful? It makes me want to dance… can you dance like Mommy? Smoothly like this?” I gracefully raised my arms and swayed.

I did not predict any response. I did not predict any movements. But when I looked back down at my son, he was smiling up at me.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, dance.” And he extended his arms out slowly, gracefully… as gracefully I have ever seen him move.

I cried.

I cried because this is a boy who refuses to the itsy bitsy spider because he cannot do the finger movements anymore. This is a boy who is starting to rebel at the thought of using crayons. This is a boy who trips over his own feet walking across the living room. This is a boy with neurology appointments and occupational therapy and a lot of complicated, confusing issues.

But at this moment, this boy was dancing. For the first time.

My son danced on Friday. Anything is possible.

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About rhapsodyinautism

I'm a Mom of two little ones-- a two-year-old son newly diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder and a baby girl who is too young to make any guesses. I work a little bit from home for an environmental nonprofit, and I am a freelance journalist. I love cooking, singing, and autumn weather. And I'm married to a brilliant, involved Daddy.
My son is an auburn-haired smartypants who loves trucks and jazz. He taught himself the alphabet at 20 months. He has a beautiful social smile, but he finds eye contact aversive.
He is the reason I am writing this blog... because there is a huge lack in legislation, funding, insurance coverage, and understanding in regards to autism spectrum disorders. This will be my place to advocate, tell the tale of our journey, and hopefully share a few tears and laughs along the way. This is our family life, and we have embraced it.